*note: I am not a poet. In fact my 7th grade English teacher told me so. But a few times in my life, strong feelings evoke a sense of mind reeling thoughts that somehow spit out onto paper as a poor woman’s stab at poetry. So take this with a grain of salt. But its a true story from this morning. 😉
It was “one of those” mornings–
One hopes for a restful feeling,
After all sleep is a supposed partner for healing.
Alas, as the past and present have shown–
As a mother of young children in the house,
Morning brings puffy eye syndrome and tossed hair fit to nest a mouse.
This particular morning as I attempted a stretch–
(Because of course in exhaustion, while sleeping, I rarely moved)
I felt small, cold, round objects fitting badly into my back grooves.
Apples. A five pound bag with a carelessly ripped whole in one side–
I’m not totally surprised, for strange things appeared in my bed before.
But this was a first and one wonders what more could be in store.
A glance to the other side of the bed reveals–
My three year old son snoring softly in peace.
A half eaten apple in hand and dried juice in his wrist crease.
I laid back on my pillow–
At first lamenting my current post in life.
A sleepless mother of young children and faithful wife.
For it may seem this current post has little to offer–
There are so many other luxuries out there…
Besides these mismatched sheets and “is this gum in my hair?”
But as I turn and again watch my sleeping son–
There’s a feeling of joy, love, and peace- yes- coveted peace.
It enters my heart and soul- and my thoughtless worries of luxuries cease.
For this is a feeling of peace mothers seek often–
And the Lord has given me this post for a reason,
To mother, to love, and yes it may cause exhaustion for a season.
But for this tender moment–
Fulfilling this post, fulfilling this call.
I know I will hope for another morning like this– Apples and all.
-Robyn Whitworth, morning of Sept 19, 2012